Posts Tagged ‘cannabis’

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Cones make patterns in my brain

Cones will never fuck your veins

Cones make music shimmer and sing

Cones make life a better thing

Cones make sex a funky thrill

Cones are much more fun than pills

Cones will clear up your depression

Cones will help your self-expression

Cones are crumbly, cones are green

Cones will never make you mean

Cones have brought me stoner friends

Cones will make your suffering end

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Have you ever lost your bearings in a rainbow?

Have you ever misplaced your ostrich in a field of poppies?

Have you ever mishandled your affections in the presence of a beautiful woman?

Have you ever troubled the bean counters and abacus heads with your illegal transactions?

Have you ever bothered with the trinkets of consumer hallucinations?

Have you ever been beaten senseless for being who you are?

Have you ever triumphed over your suffering and drank the ambrosia of settled satisfaction?

Have you ever stumbled down city streets with your paranoia pounding?

Have you ever whipped yourself into a frenzy of cabalistic indulgence?

Have you ever drowned in a sea of whisky with your heart full of love?

Have you ever crucified your ego and left it hanging in a vortex of loneliness?

Have you ever multiplied through infinite stars and sprinkled stardust over the universe?

Have you ever transcended thought with feelings of mutual embarrassment?

Have you ever had a cone of most excellent cannabis buds?

Have you then farted and coughed at the same time?

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Hopping on the train to Queens Park
Sixty bucks in my hand with a heart full of hope, John Lennon spectacles and a Hawaiian shirt
Time to make a deal on covert corners
I get there
The door’s wide open but a guy jumps out of a parked car and asks
‘Are you chasing?’
‘Yeah
Follow him through the doorway
He pulls out a metallic thermos and opens it up
It’s crammed full of sticks
‘How many you want’
‘Two’
I hand over the mullah and secrete the little pillows of happiness in my pocket
Leaving the house, I head for the station
Stop in a park where the old library used to be facing the station and pack a cone
Intake of sweet smoke, so much nicer than tobacco
A haze of lime-green satisfaction descends
The grass is green as a rainforest
The sky is azure bright and unimpeded by clouds
Then I roll a smoke and head for the station
Ten minutes to wait for the train to Oats Street